


An Empire of War and Ruin

by Christhewitch



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOWAR elements to come, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feyre and Aelin brotp, Feyre and Rowan brotp, Feyre is DONE with everyone's shit, Multi, Rowan's just really angsty, She's a badass, but things go CRAZY, more characters and ships to be added, post-eos, starts right when Feyre breaks out of the "spell Rhys has on her"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-11 13:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11149821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christhewitch/pseuds/Christhewitch
Summary: She had meant to break the barriers, to allow Rhys and her Inner Circle to flee. She hadn't meant to unlock a power that she didn't know was caging her very soul, tearing her from the world she knows and throwing her into a new realm.Feyre Archeron - Cursebreaker, Spellbreaker, Converger of WorldsThe only way to uncover where she is, and how to get back home, is by making allies in a torn and broken world, even if that means searching for a lost queen, finding friends in the oddest of people, assisting in a war, and realizing that fae in this realm want her as dead as those in Prythian. (Diverges from the end of ACOMAF. After EOS. Eventual ACOWAR elements)





	1. A Hidden Light

**Author's Note:**

> A little idea I've had for a while. Will I finish writing the whole dang thing? I don't know. But it keeps reappearing in my mind, so...
> 
> Deviates from the ACOMAF ending, straight to right after Empire of Storms. As the story progresses, some ACOWAR elements will appear. Woooo.

"If you're so willing to hand out bargains, perhaps I'll make one with you.”

Rhys—oh _Rhys_. Feyre knew him, knew him all too well, knew that he would do any and _everything_ to keep his friends—his _family—_ safe. To keep _her_ safe. The King of Hybern could demand Rhys's head on a silver platter for his friends to have a guaranteed exit, and he would comply. The bounds of his love, of his selflessness, were limitless, and Feyre knew that if she refused to do anything, to let him find some sort of compromise, that there would be sacrifice.

She was healed, overall. Healed from Amarantha, from Under the Mountain, from those innocent lives she had to take. But that didn't mean she could handle whatever plan her mate had.

She couldn't see her family hurt anymore.

Her family, her friends. They were here, bleeding onto the cobblestone, staining the ground a sickly crimson. She had one task, and she failed them.

They didn't need her, not really. She had failed with being an emissary, and failed with the Cauldron. But them...the Third, the Commander, the Spymaster, and the High Lord. The Night Court needed them— _Velaris_ needed them. She wasn't important. And they...they had all given enough.

So she could give up whatever she needed to. Anything to let them escape.

Her eyes flickered from her court, to her mate, to her sisters. They needed to leave.

Feyre was not afraid.

She collapsed on her knees in a spasm. Sobs escaped her gnashing, clenched teeth as she gripped her hair and pulled, the wracks that left her body so violent—

That spell the King put couldn't reach her in time as she exploded, leashed all that she possibly could, into breaking past that choking, iron fist.

Rhys reached for her, but she continued. All of her power reached out into pure, white light. Cleansing, purifying, washing her whole. She reached that flash into every dark corner and nook she could find. Past the spell, past the barriers and glamours...so far and thorough that she could feel something new arise.

It erupted through the room, breaking the wards and anything else it dared touch. She could feel it in the Cauldron, in the book Rhys hid in his jacket...in a fae, like molten lava pooling in her chest.

And in the first time in her life, Feyre felt something unlock within her. A key that unlocked her very soul.

The light was no longer Day's light that she had released for only her mate. It became something different. She could feel it prowl through her very bones, igniting each and every vein in her body, warming her insides until she felt like she was _glittering—_ not like the glow that she released with Rhys in their private moments in the cabin, but...like the sun. Like a _star_.

Voices—there were voices somewhere. Hisses, cries of confusion and outrage. But they were all so far away, fading away more with each passing second. All she saw was light everywhere, whole, consuming _—_

“ _Feyre!”_

The last of it released, and she felt herself tumbling into blackness.

 

* * *

 

The first thing that hit her was the smell.

She knew it well enough. Even before she had fae senses, her human ones could recognize the scent anywhere. Trees, the grass, a light breeze, damp dirt, and moss; a place of hunting and training.

A forest. So familiar, but different enough with the faint smell of the sea to let her know that it was no area she had ever stepped in.

The ground was next. Moist, firm, grass tickling the back of her neck and her ears. Then the sounds of ruffling leaves and buzzing insects.

And a _massive_ headache.

A groan left her stiff lips. She fought to open heavy lids, only to be greeted with a blurry forest and cloudless sky. Another grunt past clenched teeth, and she blinked slowly several times until the view could focus. Tall trees surrounded her, with birds passing by with the flap of wings and the occasional fly flying far too close to her face for comfort.

Every limb in her body was aching and stiff. Even rising to a sitting position proved to be a challenge, arms wobbling and hisses of pain escaping her. Leaves were stuck to her leathers—and probably her hair, too—but she couldn't find it in her to care. Not when everything else was distracting her.

Rhys, Mor, Azriel, Cassian, Elain, Nesta...even those mortal queens and the King of Hybern, Jurian, and Tamlin and Lucien. No where in sight, and not a single sign around to indicate that they were in the area.

And that _power_ that she had unleashed unto the world. She had meant to use it to break the wards so her friends could leave. She had meant to crawl to Tamlin and find a way to make his court fall. She hadn't meant to...do whatever she did.

She looked around, wincing at having to move her neck. Maybe in the midst of all the chaos, she had winnowed somehow. Or maybe Mor or Rhys did...as long as it wasn't Tamlin or Hybern. Reaching whatever magic she had left in her out, she tried to feel the bond, only to be met with...air. Not a wall or a cage, but she felt _nothing_.

The mating bond...she couldn't feel a trace of it.

_Rhys Rhys Rhys Rhys—_

She was so preoccupied in her thoughts, so tired with the new soreness heavily weighing down on her muscles, that she didn't even hear footsteps until they were right behind her.

And the scent...definitely not anyone she knew.

Remaining sitting, she whirled her torso around, body protesting at the movement. There, standing tall, was a fae male she had never seen before, with silver hair, green eyes, tan skin, and tattoos in ruins she didn't understand decorating one whole side of his face, and downwards.

He gripped her shoulder, hard enough on the already aching area that a cry of protest left Feyre's lips. Staring deeper into his eyes, she saw nothing like mercy. Only rage and desperation.

“Who are you?” he seethed. “And who sent you?”

 


	2. Predator and Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the feedback everyone left! I honestly didn't expect that much praise from just the first chapter.

The fear she expected her initial reaction to be didn't come. Not even hot anger, or icy rage. All she felt in that moment was annoyance.

Why couldn't give the Cauldron give her a fucking break just _once_?

She ran a critical eye over the male in front of her. High fae, no doubt, by the way he stood with predatory stillness, and he looked _built_ enough to be considered some sort of warrior. With silver hair and tan skin, the only court she could think of him belonging to was the...

Summer Court.

Shit.

He was different than the others she had the encountered, though. All the other hostile fae she met only had steel and the promise of death in their eyes, nothing but bloodlust. He, however, had a tint of desperation in his eyes, a slight edge to let her know that he was afraid. Not necessarily of her, but of something.

If she played it right, she could possibly avoid all conflict. Her aching bones and trembling limbs told her that fighting could only be used as a last resort, anyway.

“No one sent me,” she said steadily, glancing down at where his fingers dug into her shoulder.

He only tightened his hold. Feyre hissed in response.

“I'm being honest,” her voice came out as borderline annoyed instead of calming. She tried to jerk out of his grip, but he kept her still.

“Was it Maeve?”

“What?” she raised an eyebrow. Looks like someone's after his blood, too. “No.”

His glare hardened.

So she glowered at him right back.

“Then tell me,” he gritted out.

She heaved out a sigh. “ _No one sent me_. No. One.”

Still, he refused to let up. “Then, how did you appear out of thin air from the sky?”

“I fell from the sky?” she asked, more to herself than to him. That explained the soreness. “I winnowed.” Or she assumed she did, at least.

He hesitated. It was only for a second, where his fingers lessened the pressure for only a blink of an eye, but it would have to be enough for her.

She used any remaining strength she had to tug out of his grip and jump to her feet, hands reaching for the blades strapped to her leathers. Her muscles barked at the movement.

Combat wasn't a good idea, weapon or not. The male was weaponless—he wasn't even wearing a _shirt—_ but something told her that he could wipe her off the face of Prythian with one blow anyway. A theory she did not want to test. If things went south, she would just have to use whatever energy she had left to winnow, or maybe create a breeze to knock him on his ass, or whatever else she could possibly do to get away from him before he tried killing her.

That reluctance that was on his face moments ago vanished, replaced with hostility. Then, faster than she could process, he pounced.

And air was pushing him forward.

All that training, both Cassian's and Rhys's, that she endured, wrapped around her. Instinct took over as she fired her own swish of wind to counter his.

Day Court, then. And judging from the strength of his blow, he had to be High Fae, maybe even somehow related to Helion Spell-Cleaver—

His eyes widened as he landed on his feet. “You—”

She just eyed him in retaliation. Yes, she could use _wind_ , just like he could, it wasn't like he was the only one—

But _Feyre_ , someone who didn't belong to the Day Court, possessed that ability.

And she just exposed herself.

She supposed it was going to happen sometime anyway. Other than that, she _really_ wasn't up for a fight. She had to move now that he was surprised.

 _Where_ would she go, though? She could only winnow so far, and the male would only track her down again, no doubt. And she knew for sure that she could only do it once, no strength would remain to do it again. The green-eyed fae didn't look even close to being tired, he could probably chase and hunt her down forever.

So that's it then. She was left with very limited options.

Talking again, then. At least until she could figure something else out.

“Look,” she said slowly, and he stood still, “I swear to you that no one sent me. No one. I don't know how I ended up here.”

He stared.

“So let's do each other a favor,” she continued. “I won't tell anyone that I saw you, and you won't tell anyone that you saw me.”

One prey to another, two creatures running from beasts. A beat of silence passed.

“How?” was all he asked.

She blinked. “How what?”

“The wind.”

Ah, here it goes.

“I know,” she nodded, “I'm not a part of the Day Court but—”

“Day Court?” he asked it as if he had never heard of the territory.

Her heart stopped dead. Okay, so she wasn't at the Day Court. But where else could she be? The only other Fae continent that she knew of besides Prythian was Hybern, and this forest looked much too bright and sunny for her to be there.

The emotions must have been dead clear on her face. “Do you know where we are?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Tell me.”

He paused again and examined her, as if to make sure her reactions were genuine and not faked. “Wendlyn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst...Rhys and the Inner Circle will be in the next chapter.


	3. Missing Mate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was super hard to write for some reason...so....hope it doesn't suck???

Rhys slammed into the floor of the town house, Spymaster and Commander in tow. Amren was instantly there, hands on Cassian's wings, cursing at the damage and at the hole in Azriel's chest.

He could hardly fight past his panic to muse how a _real_ healer would need to come, and soon. If they waited to long, Cassian's wings...Rhys knew that the Illyrian would prefer death than the alternative.

_Feyre._

Too much—too much was happening at once—

“Where is she?” Amren demanded, voice somehow reaching him past his panic.

_Where is she where is she where is she_

He tried to reach out again and feel their connection, their bond, but felt nothing. Only hollow air and emptiness, almost like it was never there in the first place. Not even a trace of their bargain.

“Get the book out of here,” he said instead, dumping the pieces on the ground. He hated them, the madness and despair and joy they brought with just a single touch. His Second ignored the order.

Mor wasn't here, off to find a place for Nesta and Elain that she deemed safe enough.

“Where is she?” Amren pressed again, hands still working on Cassian's back. He knew she wasn't asking about Mor.

As if his thoughts summoned his cousin, she appeared, haggard and panting. Not even sparing a glance towards anyone else in the room, she dropped down next to Azriel, her crimson-crusted hands shaking as she ripped the arrow off his chest, blood spewing on the carpet. She placed her fingers over the wound, light pouring from her fingertips—

Light. She was in light, flared it out, then she—

“ _Where is she?”_

Rhys couldn't speak, couldn't force any words out. Neither could Mor as she tended to an unconscious Azriel. He wanted to roar at the sight of his bleeding brothers, at the hollowness of his chest.

_Where are you where are you please where are you_

He pushed again—nothing.

“ _Rhysand,”_ Amren snapped.

He couldn't think straight, couldn't see anything past the last moments she was there. Thrashing on the ground, flooding the whole room with light. It had been Day Court light, at first, white and purifying, then—

“She—she's gone,” he breathed out, staring at where blood dripped on the floor. “I don't—I can't—” He couldn't do this.

“What happened?” she breathed, not tearing her eyes off of his wide, panicked stare.

He couldn't answer, couldn't speak.

“She was _there_ one moment,” Mor explained instead, “then...I don't know. She unleashed light everywhere. I thought it was supposed to be a distraction at first, or a diversion, but...” she licked her lips. “She disappeared.”

Silver eyes focused on him. He still couldn't push words out.

“We—Tamlin offered passage through his lands and our heads on silver platters to the king in exchange for trapping Feyre, breaking her bargain, and getting her back to the Spring Court,” Mor continued. “But Ianthe betrayed Tamlin—told the king where to find Feyre's sisters. So the king had Feyre's sister brought with the queens—to prove he could make them immortal. He had wards and spells set up all over, we couldn't escape. He had us by the balls.”

“Rhysand,” Amren said.

I managed to speak. “Tamlin was about to take her away, or kill us, or whatever they had in mind, when she...vanished.” _Feyre please—_ “All we know is that after she left, all the spells and wards were broken. It was how we left.”

“How do you know she didn't winnow?” Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands.

He contemplated not answering, too consumed in his grief, his panic, that he didn't know if he could force anything out. _Feyre_ , he called out again. _Feyre—_

“I can't feel her. I can't feel the bond,” he rasped. Saying it...it felt too real. The reality of it hit him, making him take a step back as if he was just struck.

“That's not possible,” she breathed, staring back at Cassian's wings, an emotion Rhys didn't want to place sliding into her eyes.

“Then why can't I _feel her_?” he snapped.

Silence met his question. He gulped down a deep breath and tried to clear his head, his shattering heart—the only feeling in the emptiness of his chest.

“How about Hybern?” Amren continued. “Did the king have something to do with it? Or Tamlin?”

“No,” Mor shook her head. “They looked as surprised as we did.”

Which wasn't a lie. Heavy quietness weighed down on every single person in the room shortly after her disappearance, even the king sat there, eyes wide and fixed on the spot the youngest Archeron had been only moments before. Then, in the midst of the confusion and silent panic, Tamlin had all but marched to Rhys and demanded what he had done to Feyre, face in a furious snarl and voice nothing but a hiss. Rhys was too disoriented, confused to even feel angry at the High Lord of Spring, gaze trained on the recently empty spot, eyes still burning with the light the burned brighter than anything he'd ever seen. He only looked away when Mor winnowed to Elain and Nesta and vanished with them. Shortly after, he had winnowed his brothers out, despite his desire to _stand there_ and wait, as if Feyre would appear again.

Despite not even feeling a glimmer of his mate, he...he knew. He knew that somewhere, out there, she was alive. He didn't know where, but he knew it. She _had_ to be there, alive. And he would find her.

“I—I know she's alive out there, I _know_ she is,” he affirmed, and he noticed tension that he didn't even know had fell on his Second's and Third's shoulders relaxing. “But I don't know _where._ Or _how_?”

“Then we'll find her,” Mor reassured, her magic flaring on Azriel's chest.

He believed her. He knew that he would tear apart all of Prythian to find her and bring her back home, to her court, to rule beside him. As High Lord and High Lady.

Feyre was High Lady of the Night Court. And no one even knew, only the two of them and the high priestess. They had planned on announcing it later, after _today._

And she wasn't here—

They would find her. They would.

“And what of the Cauldron—of the book?” Amren asked.

He stared towards the door as if he would see her walk through it, laughing and vibrant and beautiful, “I suppose we'll also have to go to war.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first 3 chapters were meant to be short, to kind of explain the situation everyone was thrown in. Now that it's all set up, with Feyre in to TOG world and Rhys and co. being like ??? wtf???, the plot will move forward and chapters will (hopefully) be longer.

**Author's Note:**

> So...yay or nay??
> 
> I don't know, I've seen a lot of things where Aelin ends up entering the ACOTAR world, but I haven't really seen a lot the other way around, where Feyre (and possibly others?) enter the TOG world. I know the first one probably makes more sense (wyrdmarks, wyrdkeys, portals, yada, yada, yada) but I just want to see if I can do this. With it seeming believable.


End file.
